


Airs Above the Ground

by wrennette



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Bottoming from the Top, First Meetings, M/M, but actually homosexual, dominance struggles (but not really), functionally bisexual characters, making promises, sort of romance, there's not much plot, there's not too much porn either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:05:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faramir and Eomer, starting a romance before the war. Movie-verse, because reasons but pre-movies, and AU.</p>
<p>LotR belongs to Tolkien, his estate, Peter Jackson, and a bunch other people who aren't me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Airs Above the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> I have no beta, so all errors and typos are my own. Title from the haute ecole of classical dressage.

Faramir stood at the ramparts with the company of Rangers he was now leader of, watching the eored of Rohirrim gallop thunderingly over the plain. They flew an unfamiliar standard over their steeds, one that Faramir did not recognize from previous visits by the Horse Lords of Rohan. He glanced to a captain of the Tower Guard, a grizzled older man that he had trained under and whose wisdom Faramir had come to cherish. 

"The green standard," Faramir began, and the captain gave what was for him a smile, just the slightest lessening of his scowl.

"It will be the banner of Eomer Eagid, sister-son of Theoden King," the captain bit out sharply, and Faramir could tell that the older man was even less pleased than usual by this. Mentally, Faramir reviewed all he knew of Eomer, and found it was not much. The Prince was younger than Faramir by some years, quite young to have his standard carried aloft over an eored of Rohirrim, if Faramir remembered the workings of Rohan correctly. The boy would have to hold his own in the contests of strength the Rohirrim favored as entertainment, even against far more seasoned warriors, to earn that right. Unless of course Theoden King had given the post through affection rather than merit.

That night in the high hall, Faramir watched as the herald announced the visiting delegation of Eorlingas to the gathered gentry of the White City. As the captain had predicted, their leader was Eomer Eagid, recently raised to the title of Third Marshall of the Riddermark. Looking upon the man, Faramir could not help but be a bit amazed. 

Eomer looked younger than what Faramir had guessed his age to be, with a long mane of gold streaked hair curling around his boyish unshaven face. He was broad of the shoulder though, despite the slenderness of his limbs, and he was easily as tall as any of the older men he commanded. When he had a few more years of wisdom, Eomer would be a man to be reckoned with, of that Faramir was instinctively sure.

The dress of the Men of Rohan was not entirely dissimilar from that of the Men of Gondor, but the differences caught at Faramir's keenly observant eyes. The main colours of the Rohirrim's wardrobe were earth tones, the rich browns of supple leather and warm creams and grey-browns of undyed wool. The differences between their peoples were not just in style of dress however. 

The men of Rohan were more sturdily built than most men of Gondor, broader across the shoulders and thicker through their chests, with well muscled lower bodies from their exhaustive cavalry training. Most were not so tall as men of Gondor, nor so fair, but they had a fell sort of beauty to them. Looking upon the Rohirrim, even without their gleaming helms and polished arms, Faramir was sure he had never seen a more warlike band, not even the well trained Guard of the Tower. 

"I bear greetings, Denethor, son of Ecthelion," the young Eorl said, his voice deeper than expected. It was the voice of a man rather than the boy he still looked, and rich with the distinctive cadence of the Rohirrim. "Wishes of prosperity and joy from Theoden King." Denethor waited a long beat before responding, and Faramir could see the young Eorl was deeply offended by the slight, his expressive face flushing hotly. But the man did not act upon his hurt other than drawing his already impressive frame even straighter. Faramir's respect for the younger man grew. 

Faramir tuned out much of the formalities that played back and forth for the next while. He had been attending these functions since boyhood, and could answer the questions of the courtiers by rote. As soon as was acceptable, he withdrew, catching the eyes of the few of his Rangers who were also in attendance. They had much work to be done before they returned to Ithilien.

When his meeting with his captains finished, Faramir took himself out onto the battlements, walking slowly along the ancient stone, staring up at the massive moon. He walked for some time, letting his mind settle and still. He nodded at the Guards as he passed them, and they bowed in return, even as they kept watch. He smiled slightly, appreciative as always of the dutiful men that protected this citadel and the people that resided within. Circling back near the hall, he heard the feast still roaring on. But as he approached, he came upon the strong profile of the young Marshall of the Mark. 

The younger man stood straight and tall, hands clasped behind his back. His face was flung up to the night sky, deep hazel eyes drinking in the clear moonlight. The pale brilliance washed out the Eorl's golden magnificence, casting him instead in silver. As Faramir approached, Eomer turned, eyes fixing on the Gondoran, then dipping his head briefly in respectful greeting.

"I saw you within," Eomer said, voice clear and strong. "But I have not learned your name Ranger." Faramir smiled slightly, a little surprised that Eomer would have recognized his profession from his garb.

"I am Faramir," he offered. "Of the Rangers of Ithilien."

"You are the son of the Steward," Eomer said firmly, giving Faramir the birthright as if it carried some sort of honour.

"I am," Faramir admitted. "The second son." Eomer opened his mouth, but appeared to think better of what he had been about to say, and instead turned back to the moon. Stillness settled over them, and for a long moment, Faramir debated whether to stay or go. But the silence did not grow tense and uncomfortable, and so he stayed, half watching the movement of the stars, half watching the profile of the younger man.

"The moon hangs low here over Gondor," Eomer offered after a while, and Faramir looked back up to the sky from where his eyes had settled on the bow of Eomer's mouth. He had no response though, and so he remained silent. After a while, feeling the younger man's eyes on him, Faramir let his gaze fall back to the horizon, then slide across to the young Eorl. "You are unlike the other men I have met here," Eomer said, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Faramir could not help a small smile of amusement.

"I will take as compliment what most others here would deem an insult, Marshall of the Mark. You will find that amongst the Rangers, there are few who speak but when necessary. Even in our strongholds, we are always awaiting danger." Eomer bowed slightly, then glanced back towards the lit hall.

"I would rather spend the night in silence with you and your Rangers," he offered somewhat darkly. "But I will be missed shortly. I am pleased to have met you Faramir son of Denethor. If ever you are in Rohan-" He left the offer open ended as Faramir nodded, and with a little bow and a slightly nervous smile turned towards the golden light that spilled from the windows and door. 

Faramir watched silently as the tall young man walked away, pausing a moment before re-entering the citadel to square his broad shoulders and lift his proud chin. He went as if preparing to meet a great trial, and Faramir smiled slightly to himself, then slipped away again. Unlike the young Marshall, he would not be missed, and could take his leave as he wished.

Ere long Faramir was back in the forests of Ithilien with his Rangers, ranging far afield by day and sleeping rough at night. When they were able, they lit their fires and enjoyed one another's silent company, but more nights than not they ate hard tack and cold forage. The young Eorl of Rohan occasionally resurfaced in Faramir's mind when he was idle, but more frequently his thoughts returned to his idolized brother, whom he missed greatly.

Their route took them up to the edge of Rohan at times, and Faramir looked out over the plains as the rode at their edges, a little awed by the breadth of the sky. The land itself was unlike the plains of Gondor, which were given over to greening crops in most places, and hedge-edged pastureland in others. There was little to no unbroken grassland like this left in Gondor. The grasses of Rohan undulated like a great gold-green sea. Meadow birds darted up singing and described circles as they gave voice. It was soothing, the quiet vastness of it. Faramir wished at times he could simply go explore.

A thundering one clear day resolved itself to an eored on the horizon, and Faramir did not try to hide his own company. They maintained their pace and heading, staying the Gondor side of the border. A scouting band broke away from the eored, and as they approached, the wind of their passing unfurled their banner and snapped it back from the pole. A silver steed on a green field, leaping. Eomer Eagid. Faramir swallowed thickly, glancing to his bannerman. His own grey green pennant was loosed, the Tree picked out silver against the ground.

The full eored drew up after a time, their horses stamping and snorting. The beasts were magnificent. Rangers prided themselves on their mounts, theirs were some of the best bred steeds in Gondor. But the horses of Rohan were something else, and something much more magnificent. Other riders gave way though, as the Eorl guided his mount forward. It was a magnificent stallion, pale grey with a wide forehead and delicate ears. A truly magnificent creature.

“Well met, Faramir son of Denethor,” Eomer said, his voice richer and deeper than Faramir remembered.

“Well met Eomer Eagid,” Faramir replied, nudging his mount forward so they could clasp arms. Eomer had broadened further across the shoulder and was beginning to thicken through the arms and chest. This was a man now, Faramir could see, and that realization hit him with a throb of arousal low in the gut. A very handsome man, with large hazel eyes and a small, slightly upturned nose, a lush mouth and square jaw. His hair was somewhat darkened, a gold streaked mane of chestnut beneath his crested helm.

“Standard patrol?” Eomer asked, and Faramir smiled somewhat and nodded.

“Standard patrol,” Faramir affirmed. “We have had no trouble since we turned westward along the shared border. Some wildmen in the woods to the south, but no more than normal, and easily dispersed.” Eomer nodded. 

“I would offer the hospitality of Rohan, if I thought it any better than that of Gondor. But I wager we are both on trail rations, and months from home,” Eomer said with a wry smile, and Faramir smiled in response.

“You would win that wager friend,” Faramir said. “Although our pot will be somewhat bettered tonight with the profits of a morning hunt. You journey westwards?” 

“We may,” Eomer said with a shrug. Their patrol had no set route, only a great deal of country they must cover. Faramir nodded, looking over their split companies.

“Rangers,” Faramir called, half rising in his stirrups. “Let us show these poor northern souls a little southern hospitality.” There was a cheer, and the Rangers drew back, fading into a single file. “Our fire is yours if you wish it,” Faramir offered Eomer, and the Marshall nodded, smiling. 

“Eorlingas,” Eomer cried, and they needed no further invitation. Eomer and Faramir ended riding side by side, their men in a mixed mass behind them. Faramir had been heading for a well watered dell he knew well, and Eomer chuckled softly as they crested the rise. “I had intended this as our overnighting spot as well,” Eomer said to Faramir’s questioning look, and Faramir smiled.

“It seems our meeting again today was fated then,” Faramir said, and a warm look flashed over Eomer’s face. Faramir felt his mouth twitch into a smile in response. He knew little of this man, and yet he felt strongly that they could be the most trusted of friends to one another. The two companies were both practiced at making camp, and did so in the ways of their peoples, similar yet slightly different. The tents of Faramir and Eomer were set up next to one another near the central fire, the fires of their men radiating out away. All ate well, and soon new friendships were being formed over camp coffee and pipeweed.

Eomer and Faramir shared intelligence as they were able, and then reminisces and tall tales. And as the fires faded in the short hours of the night, Faramir buckled his courage close and reached out, cupping the stubbled cheek of his counterpart. 

“Forgive me friend, if I presume too much,” Faramir begged softly, then leaned in to brush their mouths together. 

“You presume much friend,” Eomer said thickly. “But not too much.” He followed this with a kiss of his own, deeper and more insistent. Both men rose, and Faramir realized he needed to look up at the younger man. Eomer was larger than him all over, broader of shoulder and thicker of arm and waist and thigh. He was powerfully built, and Faramir was taken with a strengthening urge to see all of that magnificent body. Similar heat burned in Eomer’s eyes, and they kissed deeply, hands moving over armor and wardrobe, stripping both away quickly.

“It has been some time since I sought pleasure, longer since I lay with a man,” Faramir murmured as Eomer’s strong hand circled his cock, and Eomer gentled him with a kiss. 

“It has been a time for me as well friend,” Eomer murmured. “I shall hope we remember the way of it together.” Faramir simply moaned in response as Eomer stroked him. The Eorl had the callouses of a warrior as well as the strength of one, and there was no type of man Faramir favored more than a warrior. They were soon naked and grappling for dominance, rutting together as they did, trying to grasp sweat slicked bodies as they writhed together. 

Faramir knew that in the end he would submit, he was the smaller of them, and the weaker. But he would fight until his surrender was forced, knowing that a willing surrender even though it be a willing coupling would cause him to lose his partner’s respect. Finally Faramir was pinned, one arm twisted up behind his back, Eomer’s weight upon his legs to prevent him eeling free. Faramir panted raggedly, felt the equally forced respiration of his partner against the jut of his shoulder blade. 

Eomer ground his hips down, letting Faramir feel that he had been further aroused by their roughhousing. Faramir groaned and pressed up, signalling both his surrender and his need. Eomer chuckled softly, nosing down through Faramir’s reddish brown hair to press a kiss against the knob of his spine. Faramir hummed softly in acquiescence, then let his body slowly relax. 

“I would see your face as I take you,” Eomer murmured against the shell of Faramir’s ear. “From the moment I saw it, I have quite liked your face.” Faramir chuckled and they shifted, until Eomer lay on his back on Faramir’s pallet, Faramir straddling his waist and scrabbling for the oil in his pack. Soon Eomer’s fingers were twisting into him, and Faramir groaned as he was penetrated. It had been a year or more since he lay with another man for pleasure. When in the city, it was easier to find a woman of loose morals than a man who would not talk, and Faramir preferred partners with some measure of discretion. 

“I’m ready,” Faramir gasped as Eomer fingered him. Eomer grunted, but withdrew his fingers and carefully guided Faramir to impale himself. Faramir moaned soft and eager as the thick helmet pushed into his loosened pucker. He sank down slowly, savoring the press of Eomer’s big cock impaling him. There was no question he had never taken a man more well endowed. Eomer might well be the largest in other ways, and possibly the strongest. Faramir moaned softly as he was fully seated, impossibly aroused. 

“Ride Ranger,” Eomer directed in a low rasp, and Faramir shivered, eyes rolling in pleasure as he complied willingly, pleasuring them both as he began to move. He raised and lowered himself, moaning softly as he rode Eomer’s thick erection at the pace of a slow trot. He squeezed tight as he descended, Eomer’s big, rough hands guiding him. 

“So thick,” Faramir gasped on one downward slide. “So big,” on another.

“So tight,” Eomer responded gruffly. “So hot.” Faramir whimpered, his arousal spiraling tighter in his gut. It felt so impossibly good, but he knew that having given his submission, he was unlikely to achieve release without full submission, without being taken. 

“Please,” Faramir gasped. “Need more.” 

“Yes,” Eomer hissed, and moved with a speed Faramir wouldn’t have believed if he had not already seen it during their struggle for dominance. Faramir whimpered as he was pinned on his back, his knees forced up by his ears. “Going to mount you as a stallion does a mare when I have finished with you this first time,” Eomer grunted, then began to piston his hips. Faramir bit back a whine of pleasure. It didn’t take him long to reach orgasm, moaning and riding back wantonly as Eomer plundered him. 

Carefully Eomer eased free of the smaller man, rubbing himself gently as he looked down a moment. Faramir lay still, still slightly dazed with pleasure. His seed glistened on his belly, his cock slowly softening between his well made legs. He was an altogether well put together man, Eomer thought, more finely built than most Rohirrim, with slender hands and feet, but still strong enough to be attractive to the young Eorl. Gently Eomer rolled Faramir onto his belly, then pulled him up to his hands and knees.

“Yes,” Faramir hissed as he was breached once more. He knew he wouldn’t be able to rise again so soon, but he was certain there would still be pleasure in this joining. “Mount me,” he urged in a low voice. “Use me.” Eomer groaned softly, steadying Faramir’s narrow hips with a single hand, then plunging into his well stretched pucker. Faramir bucked eagerly as he was mounted, and as promised, Eomer took him thoroughly. Eomer soon buried himself to the hilt, flooding his partner with seed. Faramir moaned happily, and they slumped together into the pallet, lax with satisfaction.

For three days their patrols ran parallel along the border of Rohan and Gondor. Each night Faramir and Eomer laid together, kissing, touching, and thoroughly satisfying one another. It made mounting his horse an adventure each morning for Faramir, who submitted each night. But he relished that dull ache between his legs, the memory of having been well taken. Finally though, the Rangers had to turn back to the south. They parted from the Rohirrim in friendship, and the private parting between their leaders was done the night previous.

Time came, that Faramir’s patrol rotated back to Minas Tirith for rest and resupply, and while there, his father deigned to assign him a task apart. An envoy rode to Edoras, stronghold of the Horse Lords. And though Denethor did not stand much on ceremony, nor set much store by it, he thought it best that one of his sons make the journey. It was more, Faramir thought, that Denethor wished to know the business of Rohan, and thought his younger son more apt to tell him that which he wished to know. 

Faramir did not argue the assignment though. He dearly loved Ithilien and his post there, and loved his Rangers as well. But he had never traveled much, and was eager to see the world beyond Gondor. Rohan he knew, would be in many ways similar. It was part of the reason their two peoples made such good allies. But it was not Gondor, and so it was something new. His Rangers eventually marched off without him, and he stayed behind, being fitted for a wardrobe befitting the Steward's son and schooled harshly in the etiquette he had long forgotten.

He took to the lessons well though, and had enough knowledge of the kingdom of Gondor that even unanticipated questions rarely tripped him up. So the day of departure came, and with an entourage of Rangers as guards, Faramir rode for Rohan. Their mounts, Faramir was certain, were of far lesser stock than those their hosts bred. It had been many long years since they had last traded horses with the Rohirrim, and a purchase of new stock was only one of the many tasks Faramir was charged with. 

Not long after they crossed into the wide golden grasslands of Rohan, a small horse patrol swept down upon them. They were escorted to the nearest fortress, a stronghold of timber pilings. Within, they were given hospitality, while awaiting the lord of the place. When darkness came, the Eorl Hamad returned, and with him was the third Marshall of the Mark, with whom he had been riding that day, taking Eomer on the the quarterly inspection of the local herds. 

Faramir did not know this at first of course. He simply knew the Eorl returned, and he and his entourage were escorted to the Eorl's council chambers. Within he found Eorl Hamad with Eomer at his side, the two of them bent over a large map and series of ledgers. Faramir gave a polite obedience to the two men as they looked up, and when he straightened, Eomer was smiling at him in a way that made his stomach churn with anticipation and remembrance.

"Greetings Eorl Hamad, son of Hamlin," Faramir said to his host. "Greetings Eorl Eomer, son of Eomund," he said to the younger man, and Eomer bowed in turn. "I am Faramir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. My Rangers and I travel to Edoras, and beg hospitality of you for the night, and safe passage through the Riddermark of Rohan." It was formality of course, their lands had long been allies. But the alliance was not a formal thing, more a remnant of ancient tradition. And so he begged safe passage to Edoras.

"You are made welcome," Hamad said warmly, pleased by the polite manners of the fair Ranger who stood before him.

"I go myself to Edoras in the morn," Eomer said after a slow beat. "If it please you Faramir, son of Denethor, your company may ride with my eored." Faramir bowed again, surprised but quite pleased, remembering the last time he rode at Eomer’s side. It was unprecedented to be afforded such an escort, and he was unsure if they were being watched over or afforded some rare honour. 

"I would be most honoured," Faramir settled on saying, and Eomer nodded, hazel eyes sparking. 

“What business does Denethor part with one of his beloved sons for?” Hamad asked a little while later, Faramir sitting with the two Eorls before a large fire, warm mead in his hand.

“As I am sure you have seen, the horses of Gondor are no match for those of Rohan,” Faramir said with a smile. “I imagine Eorl Eomer shall berate them much on our journey north, for they shall slow his journey considerably. The Steward would have us purchase new bloodcattle, to rejuvenate our stocks. He wishes also, to reaffirm those bonds of friendship which have long tied Edoras and Minas Tirith.”

“And know what news Rohan has of the goings on in the wider world, I imagine,” Hamar said wisely, and Faramir smiled and nodded. He would not, could not deny that.

“This is true. For even from Minas Tirith it can be seen that the Shadow in the West grows ever stronger, and strange creatures roam abroad at night. The Haradrim have been seen, both those that walk the land with their great war beasts and those that ravage the sea, corsairs before the wind like crows before a storm,” Faramir said darkly.

“The Haradrim?” Eomer asked incredulously, for he had never seen one of their kind.

“Truly,” Faramir affirmed. “We have slain Olyphants as far north as where Erui washes into the Anduin, and seen their ships that far north as well. We have not yet allowed them to come further north, but it is, I think only a matter of time. They are many, and utterly without the fear of death. I accord my Rangers much bravery, but I also hold their lives dear. 

“Soon, they shall have the advantage of us, and they shall come as far as Minas Tirith. Farther, into Rohan even if we cannot stop them ere they reach you,” Faramir said, his tone far away. Both Rohirrim could tell that the Ranger was exhausted by his fight, and held out little hope for his native land. He would go fighting, it was the way of the Rangers, but he fully expected to die a young man.

“I have always wanted to see an Olyphant,” Eomer said carelessly, and Faramir glanced up, startled a little. Eomer smiled at him, understanding well his fatigue. “Perhaps I shall dream of slaying them tonight,” he joked. “But dream I must, or I will not be a welcome companion in the morning. I go to my bed with gratitude kind host,” he said to Hamar, who nodded, smiling, used to Eomer’s gallows humour. 

“And I imagine you will be wanting rest as well, friend Ranger,” Hamar said. “Come, I will show you the way. My hall is not so grand as you will find Edoras, but we have enough beds that you need not sleep in the stables, although it is said that some of our kind prefer that, finding their horses better companions than other men.” Faramir laughed softly, and followed his host. Eomer, whose guest quarters were near where Faramir would sleep, followed behind. 

“I thank you again for your hospitality Eorl Hamar,” Faramir said at his door. “I shall speak well of you in Edoras.” Hamar waved off the compliment, and Faramir was not terribly surprised when, after Hamar had left, Eomer followed him into the room. Almost as soon as the door latched, Faramir was embraced, a hot, wet mouth moving against his, taking him. Faramir moaned, submitting without question.

“I have missed you,” Eomer breathed softly. “I dream of you, these long, lonely nights of my patrol, remembering how beautiful you were astride me, how wanton beneath me. The way your eyes sparkled when you were opened, and your sweet cries as you spent for me,” he growled.

“I have missed you as well,” Faramir said in a soft hush. “Ah, Eomer. No man has loved me so well as you, and I desire no other.”

“Truly?” Eomer asked softly, a little surprised that the handsome Ranger had chosen to go without.

“Truly,” Faramir affirmed, looking up through his reddish lashes. “I have known no other could pleasure me as you do, and so I have made due with my hand, rather than disappoint another as well as myself,” he teased, and Eomer smiled, leaning in for another kiss. 

“Then I shall give you that pleasure again,” Eomer promised breathlessly. “As long as I can, until our paths part once more.” For both knew their duties. If it was a time of peace, perhaps Faramir, as an extra son, might have leave to take up with Eomer. Or perhaps he could keep his Rangers in northern Ithilien, where they might pass many a day in the company of the patrolling eoreds. But this was a time of war, and both men knew their duties, and were bound to complete them or die trying.

“Promise me only that you will not die needlessly, alone in these darkening days,” Eomer murmured, cupping Faramir’s face. Faramir smiled softly up at him, and rested their foreheads together. 

“I shall try always to return to you,” Faramir said softly. “If I die, know that I do not go willingly, but that I die proud, and in defence of both our lands, for if one falls, so shall the other, unless some great help arrives.”

“And so I shall always try and return to you, dear Ranger,” Eomer promised in turn. “For as you say, the fortunes of our lands are oft if not always bound. For tonight though, and every night until we reach Edoras, our paths run together, and so too our hearts.”

“Even when our paths part once more, I fear I may leave my heart in your keeping,” Faramir said breathlessly. For he had never lingered over a bedmate as he did over Eomer. He had been struck by the younger man from the start, and now that they had lain together, his always romantic heart had found a man worth respecting, admiring, and desiring.

“Ah, love,” Eomer sighed, and kissed his Ranger soundly. Gently he drew Faramir to the bed, and tonight they simply touched and kissed one another, learning one another’s bodies intimately. Wound tight together, they soon enough slept, Faramir’s head pillowed on Eomer’s broad, muscular chest, the sound of Eomer’s steady heart a welcome lullaby.


End file.
